Life, 1887-05-05 · page 3 of 16
Life — May 5, 1887 — page 3: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "One Tongue" Cartoon Analysis This cartoon satirizes marriage across language barriers. The dialogue shows a man (Ormsley) being warned by a friend (Here Peabody) about marrying a "Smithers girl" who speaks multiple languages fluently. The joke's punchline: after marriage, a woman will revert to speaking only one language—her native tongue, implying nagging or quarreling in a single language becomes incessant. The cartoon reflects Victorian-era anxieties about foreign wives and gender roles. The "romance" poems below provide sentimental contrast to the cynical humor above, suggesting the gap between courtship ideals and married reality. The page also contains brief satirical notes about a numismatist and Governor Hill's reluctance to sign legislation—typical period political commentary.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
ONE TONGUE. Dumley: HERE, PEABODY, WHAT IS THIS 1 HEAR ABOUT A MARRIAGE BETWEEN YOU AND THAT SMITHERS GIRL? SHE 1S IN NO WAY FITTED TO MAKE YOU A CONGENIAL COMPANION, Peabody; YOU'RE WRONG, OLD BOY, SHE IS A MOST CULTURED WOMAN AND SPEAKS SEVEN DIFFERENT LANGUAG! UENTLY, Dumley: YES, THAT'S ALL VERY NICE, KUT WHEN YOU HAVE WEEN MARRIED AS LONG AS I HAVE, YOU WILL FIND THAT ONE LANGUAGE 1S ALL THAT YOU WANT A WOMAN TO SPEAK FLUENTLY. A ROMANCE, [Ye Poet, waxing sentimental, senate off to hys ladye love y+ metrical recital of hys woes & hys undying affection.) But I'll dream on forever in peace—if the dead May dream of the love that they knew — And the low-waving grass that grows over my head Will whisper, dear lady, of you! HERE'S a room in Bohemia, cheerless and drear, hat the sun never gladdens with light — No friends ever break on my solitude here, And day is as sombre as night ; Yet night is all sunshine and day is all blest, And troubles fall lightly as dew : Trim Fancy in holiday garb I have dressed,— I'm dreaming, fair lady, of you! When I wonder and blunder through drowsiest lore Of Blackstone and Bishop and Kent, “Till my brain is as dry as the dust on the floor, And reason is crooked and bent,— ‘Then Fantasy comes, and in Fantasy’s train Come visions of happiest hue.— Far away in my sun-dazzled castles in Spain, I'm dreaming, fair lady, of you! So the sun may come up and go down, as he will, “Till he smiles on my fresh covered grave ; And little I'll care, lying pallid and still, For the honors that living men crave ; [¥« Afayde being from ye Weste and ill-appreciating 16 flightes of Pegasus makes reply.) Oh, give us a rest on your “castles” and “dreams,” And your ‘* grave" and your *low-waving grass !"" Please send me a box of good chocolate creams, And burn all your metrical gas. Perhaps you don’t know that you give me a pain,— But, really and truly, you do! Go and bury yourself in your "castle in Spain,"— It's the place for such duffers as you! [¥¢ Poct taketh ye nexte train for fayre Provence. 7] W. S. Case. AY GOULD is not much of a numismatist, but he has the finest collection of coins in the country. F course Governor Hill doesn't want to sign a high- license bill. The Executive's private bills for treating his constituents are probably too large at present rates. comicbooks.com